


The Kissing Booth

by andabatae



Series: One-Shots and Drabbles [18]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Ben, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Kissing Booth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-20 23:44:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21290144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andabatae/pseuds/andabatae
Summary: Ben hates working the fall festival his mother puts together, but this year, a beautiful woman is running the kissing booth. Will Ben find the courage to actually kiss her?
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: One-Shots and Drabbles [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1387747
Comments: 44
Kudos: 288
Collections: Fall Fic Exchange 2019





	The Kissing Booth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [artiowritestrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/artiowritestrash/gifts).

> This is a spur-of-the-moment drunk fic for artiowritestrash. It's the final evening of the fall fic exchange and I feel inspired (and yes, tipsy). I know you like smut, Artio, but that would have been an extra bajillion words and I'm on a deadline, so this is T-rated! I hope you like it anyway!

Ben Solo had a plan.

Sort of. Maybe.

He had an inkling of an impulse that might or might not yield results.

Okay, so planning wasn’t exactly in the Solo wheelhouse. Unfortunately, Ben took after his father, Han Solo, in that way, rather than inheriting his mother’s political savvy and cunning. Leia Organa-Solo manipulated and inspired and always seemed to be nine steps ahead of everyone else, whereas Han and Ben liked to bullshit their way through life and then, if needed, punch things until they broke.

There would be no punching today, though. Oh, no. Ben’s hastily-assembled pseudo-plan was of a much sweeter nature.

His target sat at a folding table twenty feet away from Ben’s position at the Batuu Annual Harvest Festival. Hazel eyes, brown hair, brilliant smile. A flimsy cardboard display framed her face. “Kissing Booth!” it announced, and okay, maybe Ben would be punching something today, after all, because that sign was the bane of his existence.

That sign meant the mystery woman was getting kissed by _ dozens of strangers_, and that was unacceptable. Sure, they were mostly cheek kisses, with a few chaste pecks on the lips, but Ben didn’t care. From the moment he’d spied the gorgeous woman from his position at his uncle’s caramel apple stall, he’d felt the burning need to scoop her up in his arms and carry her somewhere where she could be entirely his.

This wasn’t a normal human reaction. Ben recognized that, just as he recognized that many of his reactions couldn’t be classified as “normal.” But he was odd when it came to relationships and the opposite sex. Either he felt nothing, dating awkwardly because that was what was expected of youngish people, or he fell hard and fast almost instantly. Of course, those hard-and-fast times never really worked out. The other times didn’t, either. Really, nothing worked when it came to Ben and the opposite sex.

Today, though, he was determined to change that.

She was sitting right there, Aphrodite in a purple gingham dress--or no, maybe Persephone. Her skin was tinged with gold and kissed with freckles, the epitome of springtime. Ben was just a grumpy, awkward caramel apple peddler, but if he’d had a pomegranate to offer, he would have carried her off to the underworld forever.

Not that his apartment was the underworld. A little minimalistic in decoration, sure, and lacking in anything that might be called “personality,” but still…

Aaaand his metaphors were getting out of hand.

_ Focus_. He needed to focus.

His gaze narrowed in on his target again. She was kissing an old bespectacled woman on the cheek, which Ben didn’t feel too threatened by, although he didn’t know his Persephone’s proclivities. Maybe she was looking for a Sugar Mama.

Then he saw the line for the kissing booth.

Oh, God. It extended past the apple-bobbing station, a cotton candy stall, and the petting zoo. At least forty people were lined up to kiss _ his goddess _ on her beautiful freckled cheeks or soft pink lips.

Plan. He’d had a plan, right? It had involved something like swooping in, seizing her lips in a passionate kiss, and then growling “how’s that for a kiss” before carrying her off. How could he do that now, though? The kissing booth’s proceeds benefited hungry children, and Ben wasn’t quite enough of an ass to sabotage school lunches for impoverished infants.

Time for Plan/Impulse B. Get in line, kiss her cheek, and then win her heart with some phenomenally clever witticism before making plans to meet up later.

“Hey, Luke,” he said casually.

His uncle looked up from stirring a vat of caramel. “Hm?”

“I need to stretch my legs. Back in twenty?”

“They look plenty stretched to me, you overgrown tree,” Luke grumbled, then waved Ben away. “Fine, fine. But if you don’t want me to tell Leia you left the stall, I expect you to bring me a hot cider.”

It was a decent threat. Leia Organa-Solo presided over the Batuu Annual Harvest Festival like a general overseeing a battle for the fate of the galaxy. If even one cog in the machine wasn’t working at optimal efficiency, the General would know--and take action. “Yeah, yeah,” Ben said. “And if you stretch it to forty minutes, I’ll add some whiskey from my secret flask to it.”

Luke’s face lit up. “You’re my favorite nephew for a reason.”

Ben was Luke’s only nephew, but he wouldn’t argue the point. Not when there was a beautiful goddess to seduce.

#

Rey smiled gamely as yet another pervy old man approached the kissing booth. She could tell he was pervy by his leer and the way his gaze skated over her bosom. Guaranteed he would whisper something foul in her ear after pressing a kiss way too close to her lips.

Sure enough, he went in with an open mouth, and Rey barely tilted her face away in time to receive his slimy tongue on her cheek. “You’re a real looker,” he murmured, his nose hairs tickling her temple. “You make me wish I was ten years younger.”

Oh, yes, that was the perpetual joke men liked to deliver. _ Ten years younger_, versus a more honest thirty or fifty or seventy. She’d already heard the same quip six times today. _ Too bad you’re old and destined for the grave _ was a little harsh, so Rey resigned herself to a polite smile and a chipper “Next!”

A peck on the hand from a debonair seven-year-old restored her mood, and then she received some--not unwelcome--tongue from a sexy piece named Rose. And then…

Rey’s heart stopped when she saw the giant of a man standing in front of her booth. Dark, luscious hair framed a long face with oddly compelling features. Big nose, plush lips, soulful eyes… His face was visual poetry, and that was before she got to his body. His chest and shoulders stretched the shit out of his black Henley, and his expensive-looking jeans were perfectly tailored to suit his athletic build.

“Hey,” she breathed when he reached her table. “Would you like to donate to the Starving Orphans’ Fund?”

His expression flickered--almost a wince. “Orphans? Jesus, you’re really tugging at the heartstrings here.”

Rey glowered at him. “It’s a legitimate charity. In fact, it’s the one that kept me fed as a young child.” She wasn’t ashamed of her background, and she’d be damned if she let some sex-on-a-stick hottie in designer jeans shit on her charity of choice.

His eyes widened with what looked like panic. “No! It’s nothing like that.” He held his hands up placatingly. “I just… you’re…and I didn’t want to… but I do want to… and I’m…”

Rey gaped at him, wondering what, exactly, was wrong with him.

“Uhhhhhh,” he finally said, and then they stared at each other for a few long, tense seconds.

“Ben!” The assertive female voice cut through the crowd, and Rey flinched as she recognized the tones of Leia Organa-Solo, General of the Batuu Annual Harvest Festival. She ducked her head, not wanting to earn the General’s wrath.

“You ought to be dipping apples,” the woman said, marching up to _ Ben _the sexy giant. “Explain yourself.”

Then they were gone in a flurry of whispered arguments and waving hands, and Rey was left wondering what, exactly, Ben’s lips would have felt like on hers.

#

After a thorough reaming by his mother, Ben was consigned to the caramel apple stall for the next three hours. Luke stopped bitching about the missing apple cider after the first hour, thankfully, but both of them were miserable as they dipped and served, dipped and served.

Meanwhile, countless legions of fall festival-goers were putting their lips on his mystery woman’s face. Ben envied every single mouth that touched her. Fuck, he should probably figure out _her_ name.

“Who is she?” he blurted around 3pm.

Luke looked over at him suspiciously. “Who is who?”

“The kissing booth girl.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “You and your dad, I swear. Ben, she’s ten years younger than you.”

Ben’s cheeks heated. “That’s not why I’m asking. And anyway, Dad is fourteen years older than Mom, not ten.”

“And that’s a totally functional marriage, isn’t it?” Luke’s dry tone made Ben chuckle, and they shared a sardonic glance, bound by the awkward experience of being peripheral to Han and Leia’s unending relationship drama.

“Her name is Rey,” Luke finally said. “And she’s a nice, sweet girl, so don’t be a creep.”

“Roger roger,” Ben said with a sarcastic salute. “I’ll endeavor to treat her like a human being.”

Luke rolled his eyes. "You Solos,” he muttered.

#

The beautiful giant--Ben--came back.

At 4pm, Rey was absolutely kissed-out, but she straightened up when she saw him. Hair, lips, nose, shoulders. My _ God _he was hot, if inarticulate.

“Hello there,” he said. His hands twisted in the hem of his sweater.

“Hi.” Rey smiled as sweetly as she could manage while her heart was about to pound out of her chest. What was she supposed to do when an actual hot person wanted a kiss? And was he actually a dick or just awkward? “Are you ready to donate to hungry orphans yet?”

“Yes.” He fumbled for the wallet in his pocket before tossing a handful of bills into her bucket. “Absolutely. Love orphans.” His eyes widened. “Not that I _ want _them to be orphans, of course. No one wants that. But they seem… cool? Plucky? Hooray for orphans, is what I’m trying to say.”

He winced, and Rey winced right along with him. _Wow_.

“I put money in your jar,” Ben announced. “That means I’ve bought your mouth.”

Holy shit, _what?_ Rey gaped at him. “Excuse me?”

Ben’s eyes were so wide, he looked like a spooked horse. He rolled those pretty brown irises to the side as if seeking an escape, then straightened and stuck one finger in the air. “Duty calls,” he announced, and then he fled.

Rey stared after him, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

It was only later, when she was counting her takings, that she realized he’d left _ four hundred dollars _ in the bucket.

#

Life was terrible. Ben was terrible. Everything was terrible.

He sat at the back of the caramel apple stand, head buried in his hands. It was sunset, and the Batuu Annual Harvest Festival was coming to an end. Ben had sold a pitiful amount of caramel apples, which would mean an unfortunate debriefing with his mother in the morning, complete with a spreadsheet analysis of his performance.

He’s also managed to get in line for the kissing booth twice, alienate Rey both times, and then flee like an utter coward.

Fuck. So much for his plan. Impulse. Whatever.

Ben might have inherited Han Solo’s chaotic energy, but he’d failed to inherit his father’s charm. Of course, Ben hadn’t inherited his mother’s charm, either. Ben had, objectively speaking, no charm whatsoever.

And now Persephone, golden goddess of the kissing booth, was lost to him forever.

“Ben.”

Luke’s voice broke him from his reverie. Ben looked up to see his uncle looking at him with pity.

“What?” he demanded.

“Go over there and ask her for her number. Don’t make it complicated.”

Ben groaned, mortified that he was so obviously incompetent with women that even his celibate uncle felt qualified to give him advice. “Trust me, she isn’t interested.”

“Just talk to her like a person,” Luke advised. “ Don’t try any lines. You don’t know any good ones, and you couldn’t deliver them even if you did.”

“Thanks?” Ben scrunched up his face, wondering if this night could get any worse.

Luke sighed heavily. “Just be honest, Ben. It’s the number one mistake I’ve made in my life. The same mistake your parents make. Life is too full of bullshit as it is, so just tell her how you feel.”

They were silent a moment while Ben thought over the advice. Luke didn’t often get philosophical, but when he did, he was usually spot-on. So... okay. Ben could try to be honest. Worst-case scenario, Rey would turn him down, and how was that any different from what he was experiencing now?

“All right,” Ben said, standing and tearing off his Skywalker Caramel Apples apron. “I’ll do it.”

#

Rey was packing up her booth when she caught a glimpse of someone out of her peripheral vision. She jumped and turned on the intruder, pulling out her switchblade.

“Jesus,” hot giant Ben said, leaping back with his hands held up. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Rey winced, then flicked the knife shut and shoved it back in her pocket. “Sorry,” she said. “I don’t respond well to surprises.”

“It wasn’t meant to be a surprise.” Ben shifted from foot to foot. “I came here to talk to you.”

Was he expecting an acknowledgment of his generous gift? Or--oh, no, maybe he hadn’t meant to put that much money in the bucket, and he wanted change? “If it’s about the money--”

“It isn’t about the money,” he interrupted. “It’s about you.”

“Oh.” Heat rushed over Rey’s skin, and her stomach tightened into knots. “Um. What about me?”

Ben took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I’m going to be honest. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I’d like to take you to coffee, but I’m an awkward, nervous misanthrope with terrible social skills, so I don’t know how to ask you properly. And also I really want to kiss you.” His face screwed up with an anxious expression that melted Rey’s heart. “You probably don’t want to say yes to the kissing or the date. Unless you do?”

Rey's mind caught on one pertinent detail. “You… want to kiss me? Right now?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. Even without the booth and the money. Well, especially without the booth or the money. But with the booth is fine, if you want. Or the money. Both. Or neither.” He grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck.”

Rey was starting to understand how deeply awkward Ben was. His jumbled sentences should have been off-putting, but she found them incredibly charming. This buff refrigerator of a man was _ nervous _about asking her out.

She stepped forward and planted her hand on his chest. His muscles were tough and firm under her fingers, and she shivered in appreciation. “Yes,” she said, looking up at his puppy-dog eyes. “I’ll go to coffee with you. And I’ll kiss you.”

A smile bloomed on his austere face, and it was like the sun coming out after a long winter. “You will?”

Rey nodded. “Here. Now. Without the booth or the money.”

His grin could have powered entire electrical grids. Rey grinned back, wondering what, exactly, she was starting with this impulsive decision.

Then he leaned in and seized her lips with his, and _ oh_. His mouth was soft, but he kissed her firmly, and energy pulsed between them as they explored each other’s mouths. He kissed her like she was his world, and she kissed him back the exact same way.

The Batuu Annual Harvest Festival was over, and the kissing booth was done, but something new, bright, and beautiful was blooming between them. Somehow, Rey knew she’d started something wonderful.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Every year, Ben gets forced into working the fall festival his mother puts together. This year, there is a new volunteer, Rey, who is running the kissing booth. He spends the whole day trying to figure out how to approach her or get in line for a kiss, but keeps getting called away."
> 
> I will reiterate that I have been drinking and this was written in one hour and not beta'd in the slightest. Sorry?


End file.
